


at this moment, you mean everything

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [27]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Wynonna rolls her eyes and turns to Nicole. “What about you? Who's your celebrity crush?”Nicole points at her chest. “Me?” Waverly’s hand curls around her ankle and Nicole shivers slightly, kicking her leg out until Waverly lets go. She ignores the pout Waverly sends her way and shrugs her shoulder. “Uh, I don’t know.”“Come on,” Wynonna pushes. “You stare at their pictures on cassettes all day long. Who’s the one that gets your engine revving?”





	at this moment, you mean everything

**Author's Note:**

> It's 1985 and there's a pool party, a truth, and too much of Champ-with-no-shirt-on for Nicole to handle.

**“Come On, Eileen” Dexy’s Midnight Runners, 1982  
** _ They’re so resigned to what their fate is, but not us (no, never) - No, not us (no, never). We are far too young and clever. _

Nicole glances nervously across the room at Gus again, quickly looking away when Gus meets her eye. “Just, can it, guys,” she mumbles, trying hard not to move her mouth. “Gus looks like she’s about to explode.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes and moves even closer to Doc. “As if she would with everyone here.” There’s a hint of nervousness in her voice, though. They all know that Gus doesn’t care about the entire dining room playing audience. If Gus has something to say, she’s going to say it.

Nicole looks up again. “Can you just  _ act _ like you’re going to follow her rules?” she asks, her voice high and pleading.

Doc gives Nicole a sheepish smile. “I am trying, you know.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about you,” Nicole says, looking at Wynonna pointedly.

Wynonna huffs and slides back across the booth, barely moving an inch away from Doc. Her hand, lost under the table edge, must move at the same time. Doc jumps, a red flush on the tops of his cheeks.

Nicole groans and buries her face in her hands.

“This looks cozy.”

Nicole looks up, her mouth already set in a hard line to ward off whoever is coming to their table with that tone of voice. She settles a little when she realizes it’s only Dolls, uncurling her fist and flattening her hand against the table. 

“ _ Xavier _ ,” Wynonna says, her eyes lighting up. “We were just talking about you.”

“We were?” Nicole asks. Wynonna kicks her under the table. “We were.”

Dolls looks between the two of them, eyes narrowed. “What can I do for you?”

Wynonna smiles - that same fake smile she uses on Dr. Reggie at the drugstore, or their teachers right before they’re about to get into trouble for something. It shows too much of her teeth, and it makes Nicole uncomfortable. She sees it more now, like Wynonna is afraid to smile for real. Nicole rests her chin in her hand, squinting as she tries to figure out why Wynonna would be smiling at Dolls like that.

“-and I think you should let us use your killer pool for it.”

Dolls frowns. “You want me to throw a pool party?”

Wynonna reaches out and drops her hand on Dolls’s. “Wow, buddy. You didn’t have to offer to throw a pool party like that, just for the end of the school year.”

“I didn’t offer-”

“Isn’t that great?” Wynonna continues over him. 

Nicole gives Dolls a sympathetic smile.

“I’m throwing a pool party, aren’t I?” Dolls asks miserably.

“Hey, Mercedes!” Wynonna shouts across the dining room of The Patch.

Mercedes looks around the room, eyes lighting up when she spots Wynonna.

Doc scoffs under his breath. “I do wish you would not invite them over here.” He’s eyeing the person behind Mercedes, trailing after her as Mercedes weaves through the tables towards their booth. “Jonas Adamson is a menace, and-”

“And he’s a Revenant,” Wynonna finishes, rolling her eyes. “We know. Everyone knows. Everyone’s  _ mother _ knows.”

“My mom knows,” Nicole offers. “She asked last week after she saw him riding around with Jimmy Byers.” Her eyes narrow as she thinks about Jimmy Byers. He’s been picking on Nathan again, and Nathan has been a total hoser about it; she thinks he called their dad, but he won’t tell her. 

“A  _ Revenant _ ,” Doc repeats. For a second, Nicole thinks he’s going to spit on the ground.

Wynonna sighs. “We know you all love Wyatt Aper, okay?”

“I do not-”

“You  _ do _ ,” Wynonna interrupts him. She pulls her milkshake straw out of the glass and points it at him, flecks of milkshake splattering across the table. One lands on Nicole’s leg and she quickly wipes at it before it can stain her jeans. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were, like,  _ in love _ with him.”

Doc’s eyes narrow, but his mouth presses into a thin line.

Wynonna doesn’t notice, sliding in closer towards him. “But can’t you just  _ try _ to get along with Jonas? Please?” Her arm moves, but Nicole can’t see her hand under the table. “For me?”

Doc’s cheeks flush red, but he nods tightly. “I suppose I can-”

“That’s my boy,” Wynonna says, smiling. She kisses his cheek sloppily as Mercedes steps up next to Dolls. 

Mercedes’s hair is teased out high enough that when Jonas comes up beside her, he looks like a 7th grader. She pops one hip out, resting it against the table edge, and she turns one hand over, inspecting her nails. “Sup, losers.”

“We’re having a pool party,” Wynonna says. “Dolls is doing the honors. You’re invited.”

Dolls frowns. “Uh, Wynonna, I don’t-”

“We’re totally in,” Mercedes says over him. She curls her hand over Jonas’s arm. “Right, babe?”

Jonas wraps his arm around Mercedes’s waist, sliding his hand into her back pocket. Nicole gags, leaning over her milkshake so she can look away. She can see Doc bristle out of the corner of her eye.

“My girl in a bathing suit. ‘Course I’m in.” His hand flexes in Mercedes’s pocket and Mercedes jumps, winking at him.

Nicole swallows back the bile rising in her throat. 

Doc slowly takes off his hat, slicking his hair back behind his ears. “I am afraid the invitation was not extended to you, sir.”

“ _ Sir _ ,” Jonas mocks.

Doc starts to stand on his side of the booth. “If there is something you’d like to say, I would invite you to-”

Jonas groans, the noise loud and exaggerated. “A what? A  _ duel _ ?” He pulls Mercedes a little closer into his side. “Are we going to meet at dawn on the town common?”

Nicole puts her hands up. “Can the both of you just relax?” She looks at Doc, her eyes pleading.

Doc ignores her, eyes hard and narrowed at Jonas. “I am a man of words.”

Jonas scoffs. “You’re Wyatt’s wet dream, aren’t you?”

Nicole slides out of the booth, stepping in front of Jonas. “Either you chill or you go,” she says, her voice low and hard. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away from him. When he edges forward, she doesn’t back down. “Got it?”

Jonas finally rolls his eyes and looks away. “Whatever,” he grumbles.

Nicole looks past Jonas, at Mercedes, and swallows hard. Mercedes is watching her carefully, the corners of her mouth turned up as she bites down on her bottom lip. 

“Well, well,” Mercedes says lightly. “Quite the fighter.”

Nicole feels her face flush and she steps to the side, pointing at the booth. “Just, sit down if you’re sitting down, would you?”

Jonas slips past her, but Mercedes lingers in front of her, looking her up and down before she finally sits down, sliding across the booth and into Jonas’s side.

Nicole rolls her eyes and sits down next to Mercedes, ignoring the grin on Wynonna’s face. She kicks her foot out, catching Wynonna in the shin, and she grins when Wynonna hisses and rubs at her leg. Nicole smiles widely at Dolls. “Want to sit down?”

Dolls shakes his head. “I have a pool party to plan for,” he says. He sighs. “Maybe Jeremy can help me set up.”

“That dweeb with the bowties?” Jonas scowls. “I don’t want some first grader hanging around at our pool party.”

“He’s in  _ fifth grade _ ,” Dolls fires back.

“And I happen to find his bowties most appealing,” Doc adds.

Jonas snorts. “Of course you do, Henrietta.”

Nicole puts her hands flat on the table, leaning forward to meet Jonas’s eye threateningly.

“Jeremy is cool,” Wynonna says firmly. 

Jonas scans the table before shrugging his shoulders and leaning back against the booth, his arm dropping around Mercedes. “Whatever,” he mumbles.

Nicole taps the table to the beat of Mr. Roboto playing on the jukebox. Wynonna is whispering into Doc’s ear, making him duck his head. Mercedes is blowing bubbles with the gum in her mouth, popping them with the point of her fingernail. Jonas glares across the table at Doc. Dolls catches her eye and hooks his thumb over his shoulder. She nods and gives him a brief smile, and he heads out the door. Through the window, she watches him get on his bicycle and ride away.

“Did you guys see  _ Beverly Hills Cops _ ?” she finally asks, breaking the silence.

“It was the worst,” Jonas says flatly. “Eddie Murphy as a cop? Yeah, right. That’s like saying a girl could wear a badge.”

Nicole bristles a little. “What’s wrong with that?”

Jonas shrugs again. “It’s just not real, is it?”

Nicole opens her mouth again, but someone slams a chair down next to her, pushing the back of it flush against the end of the table. 

“What’s unreal is that we have two weeks left of school and all of our teachers are assigning  _ tests _ ,” Champ says as he sits down. He grabs Nicole’s milkshake and takes a long sip from it, making a face. “ _ Vanilla _ ? Grody.”

“What’s  _ grody _ is that you just drank from  _ my _ milkshake,” Nicole hisses. She grabs a napkin from the dispenser, reaching over Mercedes to do it, and wipes the end of her straw off. “Get your own, bozo,” she adds under her breath.

“Bobo is in the kitchen,” Champ says, frowning.

Nicole frowns back at him. “What?”

“What?” Champ repeats.

Nicole feels her hand clench into a fist, and she presses it hard into her thigh to stop herself from socking Champ in the shoulder.

“I said that Bobo is in the kitchen,” Champ repeats.

“And Nicole called you a bozo, bozo,” Mercedes says, leaning past Nicole.

Champ scowls at her, his shoulders tightening. He starts to say something, but a hand curls around his neck lightly and Waverly’s hair is suddenly in Nicole’s face as she leans down to whisper something in Champ’s ear.

Nicole feels her whole stomach tighten into a knot, the kind she gets after drinking too many milkshakes. It’s been happening more, ever since she helped Waverly practice for junior cheerleading tryouts. Waverly walks by, and Nicole can’t help but watch her; she almost fell off a stool at the counter last week. Waverly smiles at her, and Nicole feels the back of neck start to burn. Waverly grabs her hand during a scary movie, or when she’s telling a joke, and Nicole can feel her fingers hours later as she lies in bed, staring at her ceiling. 

She learned all of the words to Van Halen’s “Love Walks In,” and she sings it under her covers late at night when she’s supposed to be sleeping.

“-so, be nice,” Waverly says, loudly, pulling away from Champ’s ear. She looks back over her shoulder at Nicole and smiles. 

Champ stretches his arms out, letting one hand rest on Waverly’s waist. “Anything for you, babe.”

“Watch your hands, dude.”

“I will ask you once to remove your hand from the lady.”

“Get  _ bent _ , Hardy.”

Wynonna, Doc, and Nicole all speak at once, all glaring at the hand curling through the belt loop of Waverly’s jean shorts. Nicole doesn’t realize she’s standing up until Waverly presses hard on her shoulder to get her to sit back down.

Champ looks between the three of them and rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You guys are  _ lame-o’s _ .” He stands up, running a hand through his over-greased hair. “I’m going to go hang with Kyle and Pete. Call me later,” he tells Waverly.

Waverly watches him weave through the tables, pausing for a moment to nod at Stephanie, Chrissy, and Samantha Baker at a back booth before he leaves The Patch. Nicole resists the urge to gag as he pulls a comb out of his back pocket and runs it through his hair, slicking it back. He winks at Waverly through the neon lights on the window and gets on his brand new 1985 Haro Master with neon green rims. 

Nicole scowls at her ‘77 Pro Cycle Foiler, the one she got from Nathan. The red and yellow rims are faded and the rubber velcro pads on the frame and the handlebars is starting to flake. Champ’s bike sparkles as he rides and she thinks he looks like a neon light on wheels.

Waverly slides into the booth, nudging Nicole over for more room. Her thigh presses against Nicole’s, her skin warm. Nicole swallows and gives Waverly a shaky smile. 

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asks, reaching across the table for Nicole’s milkshake. She takes a long sip, her lips pursed so she can suck the ice cream chunks out of the bottom of the glass. “Vanilla. Good choice.”

“Like Nicole ever picks anything else,” Wynonna mutters. 

Waverly’s hand rests on Nicole’s leg. “Some people like predictability.”

“Some people aren’t losers,” Wynonna fires back. She winces and looks at Nicole. “Not you, duh.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she manages, trying not to move too much. Waverly’s hand feels feather-light and she doesn’t want it to blow away.

“Pool party,” Wynonna says, tossing a french fry into her mouth.

Waverly moves her hand to clap excitedly. “I love pool parties.” She smiles slowly. “Oh, maybe Gus will get me a new suit.”

“Who says you’re invited,” Wynonna mutters.

Waverly frowns, narrowing her eyes at Wynonna. “You  _ have _ to invite me.”

“I don’t  _ have _ to do anything,” Wynonna fires back.

“Gus said-”

“ _ Gus said _ ,” Wynonna mocks.

“Wynonna, don’t be-”

“ _ Wynonna, don’t be _ -”

Waverly growls. “Stop it.”

“ _ Stop it. _ ”

“Would you just-”

“ _ Would you just _ -”

“Both of you,” Nicole interrupts. “Knock it off.” She looks at Waverly. “You’re invited, okay? And table ten is trying to get your attention.” She looks at Wynonna. “You already know Gus is going to make you, so knock it off.”

Waverly huffs and stands up, leaving the entire left side of Nicole’s body covered in goosebumps. She shakes her head at Wynonna and stomps off, putting on a large smile as she reaches table ten.

“Now that  _ she’s _ gone,” Wynonna starts. “Let’s figure out this party.”

Mercedes’s elbow ends up in Nicole’s side as she leans forward excitedly.

Nicole sucks the bottom of her milkshake glass dry and tries not to stare as Waverly dips and glides between tables.

 

-

Nicole jumps back as Doc cannonballs into the pool, splashing the concrete walkway that runs around the side of it. “Watch it!” she shouts.

“It’s a  _ pool _ party!” Wynonna shouts back. “Get in the water!”

Nicole shakes her head and takes a step back, towards the table Dolls set up with a Lasonic TRC-920 boom box. She’s been swapping tapes in and out all afternoon, sticking her toes in the water, but never really getting in. 

She winds her fingers in her tank top nervously. Everyone is in bathing suits. Wynonna and Waverly are wearing the new one-pieces that Gus got them for summer. Chrissy is in a suit that matches Stephanie’s and Samantha Baker’s:  _ Baywatch _ -red. Doc, Jonas, Dolls, Jeremy, and Champ are in their swimming trunks, shirts off and chests bare. Mercedes is in a two-piece, and the only one besides Nicole not in the pool, stretched out on one of the lounge chairs on the grass.

Nicole is in a pair of Nathan’s old swimming trunks and a tank top from The Clash’s 1982  _ Combat Rock _ tour. She found a black baseball hat buried in the clean laundry pile in Nathan’s room and grabbed that too, turning it backwards on her head. 

Wynonna had sighed at her when she showed up at the McCreadys’ on her bicycle. “I said  _ bathing suit _ .”

“She’s in a bathing suit,” Waverly defended, coming down the steps after Wynonna, a towel over one shoulder. “I like it. The blue looks good on you.”

Nicole felt her face flush, but she nodded and picked at the fabric covering her legs. “Bathing suit.” She coasted down the driveway, waiting at the bottom for Wynonna and Waverly to catch up.

Wynonna rolled her eyes as she got on her bicycle. “Fine,” she said easily, moving on. “But you’re  _ my _ partner when we do chicken fights.”

“That’s not fair!” Waverly shouted after her. She threw her leg over her bicycle and pedaled after them. “I already asked her.”

“And I already said no,” Nicole reminded her.

Something about Waverly being on her shoulders, Nicole’s hands hooked around her ankles, made the insides of Nicole’s stomach tighten until she felt like she would be sick.

Wynonna crowed happily.

“And I’m not going to be your partner, either,” Nicole continued, looking at Wynonna. “I’m not chicken fighting.”

“Come  _ on _ ,” Wynonna whined. “You’re the tallest one! We could win!”

_ That’s the problem _ , Nicole had thought. Shooting up a few inches over the year was okay until she realized she was taller than Champ. Once everyone else realized it, no one would leave her alone about it.

_ Trying out for the team _ ? the high school basketball coach had asked.

_ How’s the weather up there? Is it snowing? _ Champ and his buddies teased.

_ Make Nicole get it. She doesn’t need a chair _ , Wynonna complained when Gus asked her to get something out of a high cabinet.

Nicole goes through the tapes on the table for the third time, reorganizing them - she’s been going back and forth about playing Bruce Springsteen’s  _ Born in the U.S.A.  _ or Ratt’s  _ Out of the Cellar _ first. She holds both tapes up in her hand, looking back and forth between them.

“I’d pick Ratt,” someone says behind her.

Nicole looks back over her shoulder and smiles at Chrissy. “You seem more like a Boss kind of person.”

Chrissy props her hand up on her hip and Nicole can’t help but stare at the way droplets of water fall off her body and pool at her feet. She looks up, shrugging one shoulder.

“You’re more of a Ratt person, though,” Chrissy says. “Play something  _ you _ like.”

Champ crashes into Chrissy, his arms low around her waist as he picks her up and carries her forward towards the pool. She screams, legs kicking out and arms flailing, trying to pull at the grip he has on her. Nicole drops the Ratt tape back onto the table, taking a few quick steps forward, but stops when she realizes that Chrissy is laughing and not really struggling at all. Champ tosses her effortlessly into the pool, standing at the edge and beating his chest like King Kong on top of the Empire State Building.

He looks back over his shoulder and winks at her.

Nicole rolls her eyes and turns back to the boombox.

“He’s gross,” Mercedes says loudly. “What a buffoon.”

“Buffoon,” Nicole repeats. “That’s a big word.”

Mercedes pulls her Ray-Bans down low on her nose. “I’m, like, not a total hoser.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “Oh, I didn’t mean… Uh, I wasn’t…” She rubs at the back of her neck.

Mercedes waves a hand at her. “Whatever, hoser.” She looks Nicole up and down. “Killer trunks.”

“They’re Nathan’s,” Nicole says, pulling at the waistband again. “I just… borrowed them.”

Mercedes pushes her sunglasses back up into place. “I bet you wear them better than he does.”

Nicole looks back at the pool, crossing her arms over her chest. Wynonna is thrashing through the shallow end, laughing as Doc chases after her half-heartedly. Dolls and Jeremy are sitting on the low stairs near them, talking. Jeremy is waving his arms around, and there’s a smile on Dolls’s face that Nicole doesn’t see often. Jonas and Champ are trying to dunk each other in the deep end, each of them trying to show off for Chrissy, Stephanie, Samantha Baker, and Waverly on floats near them. 

Waverly looks up and catches Nicole’s eye. She waves and then nods towards the pool.  _ Get in _ , she mouths.

Nicole shakes her head firmly. She doesn’t want to be dunked, she doesn’t want to play Marco Polo. She wants to go home and practice her mixtape-making skills. She turns away from Waverly instead, and focuses on rearranging the tape order -  _ definitely _ Ratt before Bruce Springsteen. 

Eventually, everyone gets tired of the pool and slowly ends up on the lawn, stretched out on their towels in the late afternoon sun. Nicole lazily switches tape after tape, keeping the volume low. She sits in a lawn chair, eyes stuck on Champ and Waverly in the far corner. Champ keeps rolling over and whispering in Waverly’s ear, making her laugh. Nicole’s fingers curl around the edge of the armrest, grip tightening every time Champ’s hand rests on Waverly’s waist as he leans over, or every time Waverly slaps her hand against Champ’s bare chest.

_ At least Wynonna looks as annoyed at it as I do _ , Nicole thinks. 

Stephanie sits up, pushing her damp hair back over her shoulder. “We should totally play Truth or Dare.”

Wynonna groans. “No way. That’s a little kid’s game.”

“Not the way Stephanie plays it,” Champ says, his voice low and suggestive.

Nicole glares at him, but Waverly is the one who elbows him.

“How about just Truth, then,” Mercedes suggests. She kicks at Jonas, laying at her feet, and sits up. “That way we don’t have any  _ stupid _ dares, like go prank call someone to ask them if their refrigerator is running.”

Wynonna scoffs. “That’s a classic.”

“It’s lame,” Mercedes fires back.

“You’re lame.”

Mercedes rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know you are, but what am I?” Wynonna sticks her tongue out at Mercedes.

“Ladies,” Doc interrupts. “I do believe this argument will continue until you are both blue in the face, so if we intend to play a game, we should begin.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Do you  _ have _ to talk like you’re walking off the set of a western movie?”

Doc puffs his chest out a little and slicks his hair back behind his ears. “I do indeed.”

“It’s kind of cool,” Champ says. He shrugs a shoulder. “Like you’re Clint Eastwood, or something.”

Waverly smiles widely and leans into Champ’s side. Nicole watches his arm snake around Waverly’s back, curling over her hip on the other side. She swallows heavily against the lump building in her throat and looks down at the lawn, grabbing a tuft of bright green grass and pulling hard. It comes out in a clump, loose dirt hanging off it, and she tosses it behind her absently.

Jeremy looks around excitedly. “I love games. Once, at my cousin’s birthday party, we had a piñata that looked like a donkey and it had a bunch of colors and-”

Stephanie puts a hand up, cutting Jeremy off. “This isn’t a  _ children’s _ party, Joshua.”

“It’s Jeremy,” Jeremy says quietly.

“Whatever it is,” Stephanie says dismissively.

“It’s  _ Jeremy _ ,” Nicole says, leaning forward in her lawn chair.

Stephanie looks at her, pursing her lips for a minute before shrugging a shoulder. “Okay, Jeremy. But this is a grown-up party, and we’re not talking about stu-” She cuts herself off and glances at Nicole again. “About  piñatas. We’re going to play a  _ real _ game.” 

The tape Nicole picked out ends - Michael Jackson’s  _ Thriller _ , because Waverly asked - and she pops it out of the stereo, sliding in Metallica’s  _ Kill ‘Em All _ .

“My sister said she played this at the last high school party she went to,” Stephanie brags. “And she’s a cheerleader, so it’s totally clutch right now.”

Samantha claps her hands excitedly, moving her towel along the grass and settling near Nicole. She smiles brightly at Nicole, wiggling her fingers. Nicole’s eyes widen and she looks away, picking at the skin around her thumb nervously. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Waverly glaring at Samantha, her forehead pinched together. 

Everyone shuffles a little closer - Jeremy and Dolls move the towel they’re sharing near Doc and Wynonna. Jonas drops onto the lawn and leans his head back against Mercedes’s thigh. Chrissy nudges at Samantha until there’s enough room for them to share. Champ grabs Waverly around the waist and hoists her into the air while she squeals. He drops her down between the V of his legs and she shimmies forward, resting her arms on his lower legs.

Nicole feels her back teeth grinding together, and when her hand flexes, she realizes she’s got it curled tight into a fist.

“Back off, Hardy,” Wynonna hisses.

Champ rolls his eyes. “As if.”

Wynonna’s eyes widen, and she starts to stand, pushing Doc’s hands away when he reaches for her. “Don’t make me come over there and-”

“Soda?” Waverly calls out. “Anyone need a new one?” She looks around and nods sharply, mentally calculating the number of people who nod or say yes. She skips around the towels, stopping in front of Nicole and grabbing her hand. “Come with. I need help carrying.”

“Can’t your boyfriend do it?” Nicole grumbles under her breath, standing up anyway.

“What?” Waverly asks, leading them across the backyard and into the sun porch just off the house. There’s a big cooler there that Doc dragged from his parents’ house. Nicole had filled the basket of her bicycle with bags of ice Curtis let them have from The Patch, and they dumped it into the cooler. Dolls and Jeremy got the cola to fill it up, and a small case of Orange Crush, just for her. 

“Nothing,” Nicole says a little louder.

Waverly pauses just inside the door, the smile dropping from her face.

Nicole frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Waverly sighs. “I just want Wynonna to like Champ.”

Nicole scowls. She sticks her hands into the cooler, ignoring the way the ice scratches at the back of her hands. “Unless he stops acting like-”

“My boyfriend?”

“Like a  _ hoser _ ,” Nicole says over her. She pulls a few colas out of the ice and hands them to Waverly without looking at her. “And anyway, aren’t you too young for a boyfriend?”

Waverly pauses, her hands wrapped around the wet cola cans, her mouth hanging open. “ _ What _ ?”

Nicole shakes her head quickly. “I just mean that-”

“I can do what I want,” Waverly says angrily. “You’re not my mother.”

Nicole softens, stepping closer to Waverly. They’re both still holding onto the cola cans, their hands caught between their bodies. “He’s just kind of a…”

Waverly narrows her eyes.

Nicole takes a deep breath. “He’s kind of a dickweed,” she says slowly.

Waverly pulls the cans out of her hand and holds them close to her chest. “What’s your deal?”

“What’s yours?” Nicole asks, stepping back. She wipes her wet hands on her tank top. “Whenever Champ is around, you’re all…” She trails off and shakes her head. “Forget it.” She goes to step around Waverly, to get to the door, but Waverly moves in front of her.

“I’m what?” she asks.

Nicole shrugs. “Different. Like… you act like Stephanie and Samantha.”

“Samantha,” Waverly mutters under her breath. “They’re my friends,” she tells Nicole.

Nicole shrugs again. “Okay.”

Waverly sighs and puts down the cans in her hand. “Nicole-”

“I just don’t even want to be here,” Nicole says quickly, picking at her thumb again. “It’s Saturday and I wanted to stay at Mattie’s a little longer, and instead, I’m stuck at a pool party with a bunch of people I don’t like, and the ones I do like aren’t even hanging out with me.”

Waverly steps closer, her eyes soft.

“And everyone is making fun of Jeremy. And Samantha keeps staring at me like I’m a spazz, and-”

“Samantha,” Waverly grumbles again. She shakes her head. “Listen.” She grabs Nicole’s hands, turning them over and slowly brushing her fingers away from her thumb. She closes her hand around Nicole’s thumb gently. “Let’s hang out a little bit longer, and then you can sleep over tonight and we can read the new  _ Rolling Stone _ and make Wynonna do the voices for the Phil Collins cover article.”

Nicole squints at Waverly for a moment. “And you’ll read the charts, too?”

Waverly makes a face, but nods. “The charts, too.” She reaches up and tugs on the bill of Nicole’s baseball hat, pulling it further back on her head.

Nicole scowls and ducks, swatting at Waverly’s hands. “Hey, don’t touch it.”

“Did you iron that, too?” Waverly asks. 

Nicole straightens her hat in the reflection of the sunroom window, slicking her hair back behind her ears. “No,” she says shortly.

Waverly is quiet for a moment, eyes sparkling. “But you tried.”

“Can it,” Nicole mutters.

Waverly laughs.

Nicole closes the lid of the cooler with her foot and starts towards the door.

“Hey,” Waverly calls. 

Nicole turns back quickly.

“Don’t forget your-” Waverly cuts off as she bumps into Nicole. 

Nicole looks down at Waverly, swallowing so hard she’s sure Waverly can see the lump in her throat move down and into the pit of her stomach. “My what?”

“Your soda,” Waverly finally finishes. She pushes the cold can of Orange Crush into Nicole’s hands slowly, their fingers sliding against the aluminum. 

“Thanks,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly smiles softly, tipping her head to one side. “Nicole, I-”

“Come  _ on _ ,” Wynonna shouts loudly, her voice seeping in through the open door. 

Nicole steps back quickly, her Orange Crush nearly slipping out of her hand as she stumbles over her feet. She pulls the door open wider so Waverly can get out it, her arms filled with cold cola cans. 

“We decided on Truth and we already started,” Stephanie announces as they sit back down.

Nicole smiles to herself a little when Waverly unfolds Nicole’s unused towel and spreads it out in front of Nicole’s lawn chair. Champ scowls at her as he takes a long sip from his cola, but Waverly looks up and he flashes her a smile instead.

“So Chrissy went,” Stephanie says. “And, surprise surprise, she thinks Pete is a total bohunk.”

Chrissy’s face is bright red. “I didn’t say  _ that _ .”

Stephanie winks at her. “You didn’t  _ not _ not say it.” She takes a sip from her cola, a straw in hers. “Now Chrissy, you pick someone and ask them to tell a truth.”

Chrissy’s eyes narrow as she scans the group. Her mouth curls up in a smile as she stares at Nicole for a long moment before glancing over at Jonas and Mercedes and then away from them.  “Wynonna,” she says slowly. “If you weren’t dating Doc, who would you go out with?”

Wynonna scoffs. “Easy. Dolls.”

Dolls’s head snaps up. “Say  _ what _ ?” he asks, his voice breaking.

Doc strokes the small patch of fuzz above his upper lip - he’s trying to grow out a moustache and it’s not working. “Interesting,” he says quietly.

“I did not see that coming,” Jonas mutters. 

“Me. Either,” Jeremy breathes out, his eyes on Wynonna.

Wynonna claps her hands together. “My turn.” She wiggles her eyebrows as she looks at Nicole. “Champ. Who is your celebrity crush?”

“Alyssa Milano,” he says quickly. “As if there’s anyone else.”

“Oh!” Waverly says loudly. She looks back up at Nicole. “You like her, too!”

Nicole spits out her mouthful of Orange Crush, barely missing Waverly’s legs. 

Jonas coughs into his can of cola. Champ’s eyes widen and he looks at her, as if he’s seeing her differently for a moment. Samantha smiles at her.

“No, I-”

“You do,” Waverly insists. “You have that poster of her.”

Nicole feels her face flush and she takes off her hat, running her hand through her hair. “I like  _ Who’s The Boss?” _ she says defensively. “It’s a funny show.”

“And Alyssa Milano is a certified babe-o-rama,” Champ adds. He stretches his arms above his head, flexing. He winks at Waverly. “Speaking of babes… Waverly, who is your celebrity crush?”

Waverly purses her lips and her nose wrinkles. She taps a finger against her chin as she thinks, and Nicole watches her, fascinated by the way the sun catches the neon pink nail polish she’s wearing. “Jon Bon Jovi,” she finally says. “No, wait. Kirk Cameron. No, Patrick Swayze.” She sighs. “No, John-”

“We get it,” Wynonna interrupts. “You have a list.”

“Kirk Cameron is a dreamboat,” Samantha sighs.

“A total catch,” Chrissy agrees.

“A dreamboat,” Wynonna repeats. “Do people actually say that?”

“Samantha just said it,” Jeremy points out.

Wynonna narrows her eyes at Jeremy. “Yes, Jeremy. Thank you.”

Jeremy smiles brightly. “You’re welcome.”

Stephanie shakes her head. “Rob Lowe is  _ obviously _ the best.” She picks at her fingernails, the same neon pink as Waverly’s. “ _ He’s _ a dreamboat.”

Wynonna shakes her head. “Bret Michaels,” she says. “He’s the best.” 

Mercedes snorts. “As  _ if _ . George Michael. He’s a young gun who could go for it.”

Wynonna gags, hunching over Doc’s arm to pretend and ralph into the grass. She sits back, her mouth twisted into a sour frown. “Oh my  _ god _ . He’s a total-”

“Babe?” Mercedes offers. She sighs. “I know.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes and turns to Nicole. “What about you?”

Nicole points at her chest. “Me?” Waverly’s hand curls around her ankle and Nicole shivers slightly, kicking her leg out until Waverly lets go. She ignores the pout Waverly sends her way and shrugs her shoulder. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Wynonna pushes. “You stare at their pictures on cassettes all day long. Who’s the one that gets your engine revving?”

“Wynonna!” Waverly shouts.

Champ grins and Jonas laughs. Doc shakes his head lightly. Jeremy tips his in confusion, but Dolls just pats him kindly on the shoulder and mouths  _ forget it _ to him. Chrissy, Stephanie, and Samantha all giggle behind their hands. 

Nicole wishes Waverly’s hand was back on her ankle now. She moves her leg, pressing it against Waverly’s arm.

“Come on, come on,” Wynonna pushes again. “Is it Kirk? He’s cute in a Dolls kind of way. Too many polos for me, though. I like them with a little muscle.” She squeezes Doc’s arm gently before she looks up at Nicole. “So?”

“Leave her alone,” Waverly says lightly. “She obviously agrees with me and doesn’t want you to know.” Her hand rests on top of Nicole’s foot. “Everyone knows polo shirts are the best look.”

Champ scoffs. “I’m never putting a polo shirt on.”

“Your shirts don’t even have sleeves,” Wynonna argues. “You rip them off like type of circus animal.”

Champ flexes again. “It’s what the ladies want.”

Wynonna fake gags again, and somehow, both of them end up in the pool splashing and trying to dunk each other. Nicole stays in her lawn chair, Waverly’s hand on her leg, only moving to change Metallica’s  _ Kill ‘Em All _ to Twisted Sister’s  _ Stay Hungry _ .

 

-

Wynonna climbs out of her bedroom window, inching down the roof one step at a time until it levels out a little. She drops down next to Nicole, pulling an Orange Crush out of her sweatshirt pocket and handing it to Nicole. She stretches her legs out, letting her feet dangle over the edge of the roof.

“Gus’ll kill us if she finds us out here,” Nicole says quietly.

“Gus’ll never know,” Wynonna says firmly. “She’s doing inventory and she’ll be home way late.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder and cracks open her can of Crush, using her hand to muffle the sound. Waverly is asleep two windows over, her curtains fluttering in and out of the open screen as the wind blows. Nicole pushes a finger into her thigh, wincing when the bright red skin goes white for a moment before reddening again. Curtis’s truck is in the driveway, his cherry red 1975 Ford. Nicole had suggested laying in the bed of the truck when Wynonna said she wanted to get out of the house. But Wynonna had shaken her head and opened her bedroom window instead, gesturing to the roof.

She can see the whole neighborhood from here. Old Lady Bumblebear’s house is lit up, and Nicole thinks maybe she’s sitting on her porch, rocking back and forth and watching them. The streetlights have just turned on, and it makes the road look like a long stage filled with spotlights. She can hear music drifting in from a house down the road, and she closes her eyes, trying to figure out the song.

Wynonna burps loudly before Nicole can get a handle on it, though. She opens her eyes and scowls.

“That’s gross.”

Wynonna shrugs. “Whatever.” She lies on her back, pillowing her hand up under her head. “What’s wrong with you?”

Nicole takes a second to swallow her mouthful of Orange Crush. “What?”

Wynonna turns her head, eyes boring into the side of Nicole’s face. “I said, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Nicole says quickly.

“You’re a shit liar.”

“You’re not supposed to swear,” Nicole reminds her.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Who’re you going to tell? And don’t say Waverly.”

Nicole closes her mouth. 

“You’re still lying,” Wynonna continues. “Something is wrong. You’ve been a total drag all day.”

Nicole frowns and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Okay, okay.” Wynonna sits up. “Is it your dad?”

Nicole feels a rush of anger slice through her stomach - something so hot and blinding that she nearly doubles over. She plants her palm flat against he roof instead, feeling the material cut into her hand. She focuses on that and lets the pain in her stomach subside before she shakes her head. “No,” she says tightly.

Wynonna’s eyes are soft, barely visible as the dark settles over them. “If it is, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

“It’s not,” Nicole says firmly. She looks back across the street, focusing on the flashing TV screen she can see in the living room window. “He hasn’t called.”

“Is that why you’re so-”

“I’m not anything,” Nicole snaps.

Wynonna looks away quickly, picking at the roof. A piece of black pitch crumbles in her hand.

Nicole sighs. “He’s busy with  _ Susan _ , or whatever.”

“ _ Susan _ ,” Wynonna mutters after a minute. “I hate Susan.”

“You don’t even know her,” Nicole says half-heartedly.

“I don’t need to.” Wynonna nods, sure. “I hate her.”

Nicole lies back against the roof, staring up at the stars. It looks so big up there; she knows it is. Her science teacher in fifth grade told them all about the stars and how each person is barely a spec compared to a star. Nicole squints, trying to make out the constellations, but she doesn’t remember any of them.

“It’s my dad you should hate,” she says quietly. 

“I hate him, too,” Wynonna says, her voice just as soft. “We can drive to… wherever he is and beat him up, if you want.”

Nicole laughs lightly. “Drive to the States?”

Wynonna makes a noise that sounds like a  _ yes _ .

Nicole shakes her head. “No way.”

“Someday, I’m going to leave Canada. Maybe I’ll go down into the States and check it out.” Wynonna sighs heavily. “I’ll get a motorcycle and a sidecar. You can ride with me.”

“I’m not riding in a sidecar,” Nicole says. “No way.”

The quiet settles on them again like a thin blanket. Nicole closes her eyes and focuses her attention on listening to the noise around her. She can hear the night insects in the grass, calling to each other. She can hear the static crackle of a radio a few doors down. An owl hoots somewhere behind the house. If she really focuses, she can hear the rumble of a car engine and someone honking their horn.

“So if you’re not mad at your dad,” Wynonna starts.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Nicole says, an edge in her voice. 

Wynonna goes silent again. Nicole gets through one chorus of INXS’s “I Send A Message” before Wynonna clears her throat again.

“You don’t  _ sound _ fine. You sound-”

“Why do you care?” Nicole asks, cutting Wynonna off. “You didn’t care earlier.”

Wynonna pushes up on her elbows, frowning. “What’re you talking about?”

“At the party,” Nicole says. “You didn’t then. Why should you care now?” She stares straight up at the sky, refusing to look at the confusion she knows is splashed across Wynonna’s face.

She knows that Wynonna hadn’t noticed that she was uncomfortable. Wynonna had been too wrapped up in Doc’s arms and in Champ’s intentions with Waverly to notice that Nicole spent the whole pool party camped out by the stereo. She had been too absorbed in their Truth game and beating Champ at chicken fights to notice that Nicole had picked her thumbs raw over her celebrity crush.

She’s a little surprised Wynonna even noticed enough to tell that she’s still upset, still running over what her answers  _ should _ have been, so everyone would stop staring at her. Samantha Baker had spent the whole rest of the day winking at her from the water. Nicole had thought it was just her imagination, but every time Samantha winked, Waverly’s grip tightened on her ankle. Champ and Jonas lost their chicken fight to Doc and Wynonna and then huddled in the corner of the pool, sneaking glances back at Nicole when they thought she wasn’t looking. 

Wynonna hadn’t noticed any of that, then.

“I thought you just hated Champ,” Wynonna says quietly.

“I do,” Nicole fires back, her voice rough. “He’s a dickweed.”

Wynonna snorts. “Tell Waverly that.”

“I did,” Nicole admits. “She got mad at me.”

“Whatever,” Wynonna says dismissively. “She’ll thank us one day.” She starts tapping out a beat Nicole can’t pick up. When she speaks again, her voice is so quiet that Nicole almost misses it. “If I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”

Nicole sighs and sits up, pulling her legs in and crossing them. “It’s not you.”

“Feels like it,” Wynonna says, her voice still soft.

Nicole swallows heavily, the truth building in her throat and threatening to push past her lips. She tries to force it back down, unsure of breathing them out into existence. She curls her hands over her knees, digging her fingernails into her bare skin, hoping to take some of the pain away from the pit of her stomach. 

“It’s me,” she breathes out.

Wynonna snorts. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Nicole gives in and picks at her thumb again, wincing as she digs even further into the already-torn skin. “You might not want to talk to me again,” she admits.

It’s been her worst fear.

Every night that she’s lain awake in bed, staring at her ceiling, has come back to this one thought: she might lose her best friend. She’d kept it down for so long, afraid to even think about the idea of losing Wynonna. Losing Wynonna would mean losing Waverly, and Gus and Curtis.

Nicole has already lost her dad; she can’t lose anyone else.

Wynonna sits up. “It’s not like you made out with Doc, or anything.” She pauses. “Did you make out with Doc?”

Nicole makes a face. “No way.”

Wynonna smiles widely, her teeth shining in the light from the nearest lamppost. “So, then, what is it?”

Nicole takes a deep breath, thinking about how to start speaking. She knows  _ how _ to speak; she knows she needs to open her mouth and force her vocal chords to push noises up, mimicking the sounds her mom and her preschool teacher taught her. She closes her mouth, though, unsure of how to make herself say  _ these _ words.

“Is this about your celebrity crush?” Wynonna asks suddenly.

Nicole’s eyes widen.

“Because, like, if you really do like Kirk Cameron, we can talk about it,” Wynonna offers kindly. “I was kidding about the polo shirts. I mean, on certain people. Champ would look like a rent-a-cop in one, you know? Like, a totally lame-o Roller. But Dolls, or Kirk, they’re bangin’ in one.”

Nicole rubs her hand across her face and sighs. “You’re kind of a space case.”

“You love me for it,” Wynonna sings. She reaches out and punches Nicole lightly in the shoulder. “Honest, though,” she says, her voice going soft again. “You can tell me.”

“I can?” Nicole asks. Her throat feels like it’s closing around itself, swallowing the words as they come out of her mouth. 

“Anything,” Wynonna promises.

“I can even tell you that I don’t like Kirk Cameron?” Nicole asks slowly.

Wynonna grins. “I  _ knew _ it. You’re totally a Bret Michaels girl.”

“What if…” Nicole feels her eyes starting to burn and she blinks hard, trying to clear them. “What if I’m a…” She shakes her head, but the tears are coming. They roll, slow and hot, down her cheeks and off her chin. “What if I’m more of an Alyssa Milano girl?”

Wynonna is quiet for a minute. Nicole is staring out into the darkness, focusing on the flickering TV across the street. Someone is watching the Blue Jays game. She thinks she sees Wynonna tip her head to one side, her forehead wrinkled in thought, but she doesn’t turn to look at Wynonna; she can’t.

She can’t if what she’s going to see is fear, or hatred. She can’t if Wynonna is going to tell her to go, or kick her off the roof, or scramble back from her like she can’t stand to be near her. 

“What do you mean?” Wynonna finally asks.

Nicole glances at her out of the corner of her eye, immediately looking back across the street. “I mean…” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t like Kirk Cameron. Or Bret Michaels. Or  _ George _ Michael. I like Alys-”

“Alyssa Milano,” Wynonna finishes. “Yeah, you said that.”

Nicole picks and picks at her thumb, just barely noticing when her finger comes back slick with blood. She sticks it in her mouth, sucking at it to ease the sting. “I’ll go,” she says around her thumb. The words are jumbled and messy. 

“What?” Wynonna asks. “Why?”

“I…” Nicole shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Wynonna goes quiet again, looking out across the street. “What do you think about Christina Applegate?”

Nicole’s mouth falls open, her thumb falling from it. “Wh-what?”

“Or that chick from  _ Conan: The Destroyer _ ,” Wynonna continues. “You really liked that movie.”

Nicole shakes her head. “What’re you…”

Wynonna puts her hand over Nicole’s. “I need to know your type, so I can make sure I approve of it.”

“My type,” Nicole repeats.

“Like, are you into blondes?” Wynonna asks. “Or brunettes. Or redheads!” She nods excitedly. “I think Mercedes thinks you’re cute.”

“ _ Mercedes _ ,” Nicole says, her voice breaking. “You’re… you’re not mad?”

Wynonna’s head snaps up. “What?”

“You’re not mad?” Nicole repeats, whispering.

Wynonna moves closer, their thighs pressing tightly together. She winds her hand in Nicole’s, lacing their fingers together. “Mad about what?”

Nicole’s hand twitches in Wynonna’s. “That I…” She trails off, swallowing hard. “That I like girls?”

The words leave her mouth and float out in front of her face. She almost thinks she could grab them and shove them back down if she was quick enough, but just as soon as she thinks it, they disappear into the night. The truth is out there now, and Nicole can’t pull it back. She can’t tell Wynonna that she’s only joking; that Bret Michaels is  _ totally _ her type. She can’t lie about it now. 

“Why would I be mad?” Wynonna asks, her voice high with confusion.

“I’m…  _ different _ ,” Nicole whispers.

Wynonna’s hand tightens around her own until Nicole looks up. Wynonna’s eyes are soft, but serious, and her mouth is a thin line across her face that bends when Nicole looks at it. Wynonna smiles, and there’s a small  _ pop _ in Nicole’s chest that she’s sure Wynonna doesn’t hear.

“Do you still like Orange Crush?” Wynonna asks.

Nicole frowns. “What?”

“Do you still like Orange Crush?” Wynonna repeats.

Nicole nods slowly.

“And are you going to iron your clothes tomorrow morning?” Wynonna asks.

“Am I  _ what _ ?”

Wynonna sighs softly. “Just answer the question.” She squints at Nicole. “Or did you already iron them today for tomorrow.” When Nicole looks down at their hands, Wynonna laughs. “Knew it,” she sings. She straightens up again. “Is ‘Whip It!’ still your favorite song?”

Nicole’s head snaps back up. “ _ No _ . I  _ hate _ that song. You know that,” she accuses.

“Are all of your tapes still alphabetized?” Wynonna continues.

Nicole nods.

“And you still like hanging out at The Patch with me?”

Nicole keeps nodding.

“Do you still want to punch Tucker Gardner every time you see him?”

“ _ Always _ ,” Nicole breathes out.

“And you think Jonas is a meathead and Champ is a lame-o? And you’re still scared of Ms. Lucado from the high school? And you still won’t ever tell Gus that I was the one who set her favorite towel on fire by accident?”

“Yes,” Nicole says slowly. “To all of that.”

“And you still want to be a Roller someday?”

Nicole inhales sharply. “That’s  _ all _ I want.”

_ Maybe besides Waverly _ , she thinks.

Wynonna pauses for a second. “Then you’re not so different after all,” she says softly.

Nicole’s eyes fill up again and then she’s crying, her head tucked into Wynonna’s shoulder. “I’m not?” she manages, her chest heaving and on fire as she tries to catch her breath.

“No way,” Wynonna whispers. “You’re still my best friend in the whole world.”

Nicole sits up and wipes at her face, sniffling. She opens her mouth, trying to figure out how to tell Wynonna about the weight that’s been resting on her chest for almost a year now, ever since Waverly came through The Patch and the sun hit the top of her head just right and Van Halen was singing all the right words and the neon lights were  _ everywhere _ . She searches for the words to tell Wynonna that the weight is just a little bit lighter now; that it isn’t sitting square in the center of her chest anymore.

Wynonna squeezes her hand again. “I just have to ask, though.”

Nicole shakes her head. “I’m not interested in Mercedes,” she says firmly.

Wynonna narrows her eyes. “So, no redheads?”

Nicole shrugs. “I don’t know yet.”

She doesn’t know, yet, if she has a  _ type _ that isn’t Waverly. But she can’t say that right now; she can’t tell Wynonna  _ that _ secret when Nicole isn’t even sure what it really means yet.  _ How do I say my type is your bossy, know-it-all little sister _ ? she wonders.

“That wasn’t my question,” Wynonna says, pulling Nicole out of her head. “I just want to know, do you want to date me?”

“Wh-what?”

“Because I will dump Doc, like, right now,” Wynonna continues. “He’s just a boy, and I don’t like that moustache thing he’s trying to do. I’d totally date you.”

Nicole hiccups when she tries to laugh. “I don’t… I don’t want to date you.”

Wynonna narrows her eyes. “Why not?”

Nicole rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against Wynonna’s arm. “Can it.”

“I’m a  _ catch _ , you know,” Wynonna says, puffing her chest out. “You’d be lucky to date me.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m the only one who can deal with your mood swings,” Nicole mutters. “Even Doc can’t handle them all.”

“Men are weak,” Wynonna says firmly. “Waverly said she read that in one of the magazines on the rack outside of the drugstore.” She sighs and leans her head against Nicole’s shoulder. “I’d still leave him for you,” she says. “You’re my best friend.”

“I’ll still be your best friend, even if you spend the rest of your life with Doc,” Nicole promises. 

“See?” Wynonna whispers. “Not so different after all.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. Purgatory has gone quiet, too, and Nicole breathes in slowly, trying to not disturb the peace that’s settled over them.

“Seriously, though,” Wynonna says after a minute. “I won’t tell anyone if you’re into Mercedes. You’re way better-looking than Jonas.”

Nicole wraps her arm around Wynonna’s neck, pulling her into a loose chokehold. She rubs her knuckles against the top of Wynonna’s head. “Shut up, you hoser.”

Wynonna wiggles out of her grasp, kicking her legs out. She catches Nicole’s half-empty Orange Crush and sends it rolling down the roof and off the edge, landing in the grass with a soft  _ plop _ . Wynonna winces, but lies back against the roof, pulling at Nicole’s arm until they’re both on their backs, looking up at the sky. Nicole tries again to remember the constellations. She thinks there’s something about a bear, and a little bear, maybe. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispers, eyes squeezed shut.

She feels Wynonna’s hand slide into her own, their fingers lacing together again. Wynonna squeezes her hand gently. “Never,” she promises. “Not until you’re ready.”

 

-

Nicole tiptoes down the stairs, peeking through the rungs of the railing. The light in the kitchen is on, but the living room is dark. Nicole sighs in relief; Curtis must be in the kitchen reading the newspaper like he usually is on the nights Gus stays late at The Patch. She creeps down a few more steps, hand tightening on the rail as she leans forward a little too much.

She needs to get home; she’s already way past curfew. She was going to spend the night, but just as she started to get into Wynonna’s bed, she remembered that her mom told her that she needed to be home tonight because she was working an overnight and Nathan had a baseball game in the morning. Wynonna had tried to convince her to stay, but Nathan would call their mom at the hospital and tell her that she wasn’t home, for sure. 

When the front screen door opens, Nicole almost falls down the stairs. She catches herself at the last second, both hands gripping the railing tightly.

“Sorry, girl,” Curtis breathes out, his hand pressed against his chest. “What’re you doing? You damn near gave me a heart attack.”

Nicole opens and closes her mouth twice before she shakes her head. “I have to go home. I promised my mom I would be home by curfew.”

Curtis looks back over her shoulder, peering through the screen into the darkness. “Little late, huh?”

Nicole nods silently.

Curtis looks back at her, his eyes still narrowed as he looks her up and down. “You okay, girl?”

“Yeah,” Nicole breathes out. “Scared me, is all.”

Curtis smiles softly. “Then we’re even.” He rests a large hand on the end of the banister. “Nice out tonight,” he says casually.

“Yeah,” Nicole repeats.

“Good time to sit out on the roof, wouldn’t you say? Enjoy the stars and the early summer breeze?”

Nicole swallows heavily. “Wh-what?”

Curtis holds up an Orange Crush can. “Drop this?”

Her eyes widen. “Wh-what?” she repeats.

Curtis puts the can down on the small table by the door. “You girls aren’t supposed to be up there,” he says sternly. “What if it had been one of you and not the can that fell off?”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Nicole says firmly.

Curtis shakes his head. “I’ll talk to Wynonna in the morning, but I don’t want you girls up there again, do you understand me?”

Nicole nods sharply. “Yes, sir.” She moves down another step. “I promise.”

“Nicole,” Curtis says softly.

She looks up and frowns. He’s staring at her, eyes soft and concerned. 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Nicole nods slowly. “I’m fine, why?”

Curtis sighs and runs a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his neck. “If there’s anything you ever need to talk about, you can.”

Nicole smiles crookedly. “Okay,” she says, taking another step down.

“I’m saying,” Curtis tries again. He lets out another sigh. “I’ve been out on the porch for a while now. I heard you girls climb out there a few hours ago.”

Nicole feels her stomach drop out of her body. Her knee buckles slightly and her foot nearly slides off the step she’s standing on. She grips the railing so tightly she’s afraid it’s going to splinter under her hand. Her chest tightens so quickly that she doesn’t get a chance to suck in a final breath, and her lungs start to scream the longer she stands there, eyes wide and burning.

“You did?” she asks, her voice breaking around the words.

Curtis nods. “The kitchen felt too stuffy with this warm front coming in. I thought I’d take advantage of the cool night and read out on the porch.”

“Curtis, I…”

Curtis steps closer to her, his hand resting on her shoulder. “It’s okay, girl.”

Nicole tries again. “Curtis…”

He squeezes her shoulder. “I just wanted you to know, that it’s okay.”

“I…”

“You’re an incredible young woman, you know,” he says. His voice is soft, but Nicole can hear it echoing like he’s holding a microphone to it, words blasting through her eardrums. “You’re smart and you’re loyal and you’re _ kind _ . My girls are better for knowing you.”

Nicole starts to shake her head. “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Curtis interrupts gently.

“But, I’m-”

Curtis squeezes her shoulder again, stopping her. “Wynonna was right. You’re no different climbing off that roof than you were going onto it.”

Nicole can feel the tears again, sliding down her cheeks and pooling at her chin. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad?” Curtis asks, surprised. “Why would I be mad at you?” He shakes his head. “Listen to me, girl. You are allowed to be whoever you want to be. The world won’t always agree with that,” he admits. “But those people who don’t? They’re not worth your time or your love.”

His hand feels like an anchor, rooting her to hope.

“You can be whatever you want to be,” Curtis continues. “You can love whoever you want to love.  _ Whoever _ ,” he repeats firmly. “And the people you want in your life, the real important ones? They’ll support you.  _ I’ll _ support you.”

Nicole tries to breathe in, but the air gets stuck in her lungs and she sobs instead.

“We’ll support you, Nicole Haught,” he promises.

“But what if…” She trails off. “What if this ruins everything?”

She thinks about her mom hating her, or Nathan never speaking to her again. She thinks of Waverly never touching her again, never reaching for her hand or braiding her hair, and she starts to panic again. It builds in her chest and bubbles into her throat.

“What if people stop…” She can’t bring herself to say the words out loud.

Curtis shakes his head. “The ones who matter will  _ never _ . You’ve got me and Gus and Wynonna and Waverly, I  _ promise _ .” He smiles gently. “You stay on track,” he tells her softly. “You stay on track and the rest of it will just fall into place.”

Nicole nods, still not sure she can speak without crying again.

Curtis squeezes her shoulder again. “That’s my girl.” He checks his watch. “Now, you better get going. I can give you a ride home, if you-”

Nicole shakes her head. “I’ll… I’ll be okay,” she says.

Curtis studies her for a moment before smiling at her. “Of course you will be, girl.” He trails after her, lingering in the doorway as she steps onto the porch and starts towards the stairs. Her bike is on the front lawn, tipped onto its side. 

She pauses at the top step, swallowing heavily. “Curtis,” she says, her voice breaking.

He turns, his broad shoulders taking up most of the doorframe.

“Thank you,” Nicole breathes out.

Curtis smiles softly and steps onto the porch. He kneels down in front of her, both of his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t need to thank me, honey. You’re one of my girls, you hear me?"

Nicole nods. Her cheeks are wet again, and she watches the small drops land on the porch, staining the wood.

“And I’m always going to love you, no matter  _ what _ ,” he continues.

Nicole looks up slowly. “You do?”

Something passes over Curtis’s face - too quickly for Nicole to figure out. She watches his throat bob as he swallows, and then he nods sharply. “Of course I do,” he says, his voice odd and high. “Of course I do. And I don’t want you to  _ ever _ doubt it. You hear me?”

Nicole nods. “I hear you,” she whispers.

Curtis stands up slowly, leaning in and pressing his lips to the top of her head.

Nicole’s eyes flutter closed and she throws her arms around his waist, holding on tightly. He hugs her back just as hard, squeezing until the pressure in Nicole’s chest disappears. Nicole gets through three choruses of the Eagles’ “Heartache Tonight” before he lets go, holding her at arm’s length.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow night, will you? I want all my girls around the same table.” He chuckles softly. “You’re all growing up. Someday soon, we won’t be able to all sit down together.”

“I will,” she promises. She moves down the stairs and picks up her bicycle, throwing a leg over it. She smiles at him, still standing on the porch, and pushes off, coasting down the driveway.

She doesn’t turn her radio on while she rides. She puts her head down and pedals against the slight breeze, listening to it  _ whoosh _ in her ears. Just under the sound, she can hear Curtis’s voice, strong and steady and soft.

_ I love you _ , he says.  _ I’m always going to love you _ .

Nicole pedals harder.

_ You’re not so different after all _ , Wynonna says.

_ I’m always going to love you. _

She falls asleep that night with Wynonna and Curtis on repeat in her head.


End file.
